


Even as a Shadow, Even as a Dream

by daisygrl



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Emphasis on Comfort, F/F, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon Fix-It, it is me flipping canon the bird and skateboarding away, this is not only a strongly-worded letter to canon for custody of the characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28500840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisygrl/pseuds/daisygrl
Summary: This is the epilogue that should have happened after the credits rolled on season 4.Zelda ventures into the Hereafter to bring Sabrina back from the dead.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	Even as a Shadow, Even as a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> The last image we ever got of Zelda was of her sobbing, struggling to imagine how she was going to make it through the rest of her life without her kid. I was unable to accept that, so I wrote an alternate ending that I have integrated into my experience of the show as canon. Call it denial, call it a coping mechanism. I hope this brings you guys the same peace it brought me.

The moment the bedroom door closes behind her, Zelda falls to her knees. Her grief eats at her, gnawing on her bones and weighing her down so that every movement, every breath, feels impossible. Low sobs crawl out from deep inside of her. Every moment is soaked with pain, and she resents every second that passes. Her thoughts don’t wander far. Everywhere she goes, she is met with pain. She stays there until morning light, unmoving, silently begging Hecate to give her her baby back. For this not to be real. She wants to tell her she is sorry. For not protecting her from the horrors of the world, for not protecting her from herself. She wants to tell her she loves her, more than anything in any realm. The thought sits inside of her and festers. She needs more than anything to be able to give it away, to have Sabrina hear her and know. _My sweet girl. I love you. I love you. I love you._

When the sun leaves streaks across her floor, she forces herself to crawl to her bed. She pulls herself onto the mattress, whimpering from the effort. Tom settles against her back, and she is grateful for the warmth of his small body, a point of reference in her cold, silent universe. She curls in on herself once again, the sobs coming from a place inside of her that she doesn’t even know. Her throat is raw, her eyes burn, and her head throbs with pain. She is so tired of crying. 

She doesn’t eat for three days. 

Her tears dry in her sockets one night. She climbs out of her bed for the first time since the day they buried her and slips out of her dress. It is rank and wrinkled, and it falls in a heap at her feet. She stands in a daze for a moment in her slip, unsure of what to do with herself. The anger seizes her so fast it stuns her. She covers her mouth with her hands and screams and screams. _I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please come back. Please. I’ll do anything_. Her cries are loud now. She hasn’t made noises like these since she was a child. She fumbles for the bowl she keeps under her bed and vomits. There is nothing inside of her, so it is all acid and bile. 

Hilda opens the door and yelps at the sight, crossing the room quickly and sitting down on the floor beside her. She holds her hair out of her face as she retches, rubbing her back. When she is finished, Hilda moves the bowl and takes her in her arms, rocking her back and forth. It makes her cry harder. Hilda is grieving too. She grabs at her sister’s arms, trying to tell her that yes, she is here, and yes, she knows. Hilda just nods, her tears soaking into Zelda’s hair.

***

The next morning, Zelda takes a shower for the first time. She watches the rivulets of blood and water coalesce as they escape down the drain. Hilda has asked her to cut her nails, and she does, because she knows that Hilda will take it upon herself to do it if she notices.

She looks in the mirror and is taken aback by her appearance. What looks like something else stares back at her. There are deep, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and her hair is a matted mass sitting tangled at the nape of her neck. 

At breakfast, no one speaks. Zelda nibbles on a slice of toast. Hilda moves around the kitchen absently, and Ambrose stares, listless, into space. She pushes her plate away and sighs. “We need to try something. Anything. I can’t -” she stops for a moment, her face crumpling. She feels a hand on hers, and she whimpers, taking a shuddering breath before she continues. “I can’t go on like this,” she admits quietly. 

“Auntie,” Ambrose says softly. His eyes are filled with tears, and he speaks slowly, almost as if he is afraid of spooking her. “She’s gone. And I know it feels like we can't live without her. We have to, though.” He puts his face in his hands. “We don’t have a choice.”

“No,” Zelda says, firmly this time. “I’ve seen the future, and Sabrina is there. She’s there when _I_ die.” She reaches into her pocket and takes out a small box. 

Ambrose just looks at her, his eyes wide and sad. “That was just a dream, auntie,” he whispers.

Zelda shakes her head vehemently. “This was given to me by Marie - Baron Samedi.” She flinches. “I was told to use it if I ever needed anything. At the time, I couldn’t imagine what I could possibly need it for.” Her voice cracks. “We have to try it. I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t.”

***

She is alone when she rolls the dice. A potent centrifugal force seizes her at her core, and when she comes to, she finds herself wading shakily through a dense, dark mass. It is unlike any substance on earth, and she realizes with a start that it is the River Styx. A voice echoes around her, but when it speaks, it is as intimate as a whisper in her ear. _What do you need?_

She swallows hard. “I need my daughter.” Her voice rings out, clear and deep, and she realizes that it is possibly the truest thing she has ever uttered.

A beat of silence. _The decision to return will have to be her own._

Zelda nods. Her hope blossoms and withers, desperate and raw, over and over. “I understand.”

***

At first, she thinks that maybe trusting the Baron was a mistake. What lies before her is not so much _nothing_ as it is a bright and heavy _something_ . The grey mists of purgatory are conspicuously absent, and it isn’t heaven, but it isn’t hell, either. _What in Hecate’s name...?_ Panic blooms in her chest, and she struggles to catch her breath. In the distance, she sees a silhouette. No - two. Her movements are disjointed, and time either does not exist or does not function in any way that matters. She walks as if through a dream.

She approaches the two figures from the back, and tears flood her eyes once more when she recognizes the short crop of blonde curls. “Sabrina!” She chokes out, and when the girl whips around, there is a moment of dazed confusion before a wide smile breaks out on her face.

“Aunt Zee!” Sabrina cries, and suddenly she is in Zelda’s arms, and Zelda is holding her baby and weeping. Nothing matters in this moment except for her girl, safe and sound, and she holds her and kisses her hair and refuses to let her go until Sabrina begs her to let her catch her breath.

She takes her face in her hands. “Sabrina,” she begs quietly, “come home. Please.” Her voice is hoarse. “You’re my baby. You always have been, and I can’t lose you.” She squeezes her eyes shut, taking a deep breath and a moment to compose herself before continuing. “I can’t. I’ll do anything,” she whispers. Her heart is in her throat, and she watches carefully as Sabrina considers her request.

“What about the paradox? And the Terrors?” Sabrina looks at her, and Zelda sees the same fear and panic mirrored in her expression. “I just don’t know what to do.” She sits down heavily on the bench and puts her head in her hands. 

Zelda wrings her hands in quiet desperation. “We will fix it. I promise.” She has no clue what she will do, there is no plan and there are no options as far as she can see, but the promise is real. If this is what it takes to bring Sabrina back, she will fix it even if it means that she has to redesign and reorchestrate the realms all by herself. 

She sits beside Sabrina, staring into her hands. When she looks to the side, she meets Sabrina’s dark, anxious eyes. “Auntie? Can I tell you something?”

Zelda nods eagerly. Anything that Sabrina has to say will be more than she thought she would ever hear again, and she would sit here listening forever if she had to.

Sabrina looks at her dead on. “I was waiting for a way to bring this up before I died, but I never got the chance to say it. I love you so much, and you are my mother. In every single way that counts.” Zelda looks at her, not moving, not breathing. 

“Did you know?”

Sabrina nods. “Aunt Hilda told me.” Zelda waits for the familiar shame to flood her, but it never does. Instead, she feels warm. Happy. Sabrina waits for a moment before she seems ready to speak again. “I wanted to tell you that after meeting my father, and realizing that he had never really been my parent at all. Not in the way you and aunt Hilda have been.” She starts to cry, and Zelda shifts slightly so that Sabrina can lean her head against her shoulder, wiping her tears away with her hand while her own flow freely down her cheeks. “You are the best mom, and I am _so_ lucky that I got to be your daughter.”

Zelda smiles through her tears. She can’t help it. Her joy is careful at first, tentative and shy, but it takes root and spreads. It fills her and warms her all the way through. She has yet to ask if Sabrina will come with her, but she soon realizes that she doesn’t need to.

When she gets up, Sabrina nods. Zelda watches her as she takes her boyfriend by the hand. She begins to walk in the direction from where she came. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that they are following behind her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Euripides (tr. Anne Carson)


End file.
